Five Months Later after Desperate Measures

Janet had wanted to keep Sam in the infirmary overnight. Her blood work was still clouded with countless chemicals. But Sam's reaction to the infirmary beds, and needles, and clean antipestic environment was something that made Janet believe she'd be a lot safer in her own home.

"You bring her back here if there are any problems," Janet says.

Jack doesn't miss the crinkle between her forehead, "Should I stay up all night and monitor her?"

"No," Janet says with a sigh, "But if you happen to wake up once or twice in the middle of the night, I wouldn't object to you recording her vital signs."

"She's going to be okay, isn't she?" Jack asks, looking past the short doctor to his wife who is choosing to sit on one of the chairs for guests (which he knows from way too much experience to be very uncomfortable) instead of the infirmary bed.

"The last of the drugs should be out of her system in 48 hours," the doctor replies.

"That's not what I'm talking about," Jack says.

Janet nods, she should have known that even though Jack never talked about emotions he still thought about them, and he always made sure that his teammates where fine emotionally when something went wrong. How much more careful was he going to be about all of that when it was his wife?

"She's been through worse, sir," Janet reminds him.

Yes, he thinks, but she wasn't my wife then. I've never had to watch her suffer like this when she was my wife.

"I hate sending you home with that bullet wound. I just couldn't keep her here, and really didn't want to send her home alone. I want you to report to the infirmary first thing in the morning to have it cleaned, do you understand?"

"Yes, ma'am," he says.

He should have protected her. She's his wife, and she was taken on her way back from the gym. He should have been with her, watching her, protecting her.

-0-

Years of doing watch in the middle of the night have allowed Jack to develop the rare talent of a mental alarm clock. He can simply tell himself to wake up at any time of the day or night, and he will. So three hours after Sam falls asleep, he wakes up. He watches the form of his sleeping wife for several minutes, feeling powerfully grateful that she is back home where she belongs.

He reaches over to take her pulse.

"No!" she screams, jerking away from him and curling in the corner of the room.

"Sam, it's me. Oh, God, I'm sorry!" he exclaims.

"Jack?" she asks, with relief clear in her voice, "Oh, Jack, I'm sorry," she says, reaching out a hand to him.

He crawls down on the floor next to her sitting, shoulder to shoulder. He's been through enough trauma to know that a hug is not that different from restraint, "I'm sorry, I should have told you before we went to bed. The trade-off of you coming home tonight was that I was supposed to check your vitals a couple of times during the night. I'm so sorry that I scared you."

"Even if you had warned me, I probably still would have freaked out," she says, snuggling into his body more fully, "I'm really glad I didn't have to spend the night in the infirmary," she says with a shudder.

"I'm sorry Sam. I should have protected you."

"You think you should have been with me 24 hours a day?" she asks incredulously.

"If that's what it took, yeah," he says, putting a protective arm around her slowly, carefully, and giving her shoulder a firm squeeze only after he is sure she can tolerate the weight of his arm on her shoulder.

"Jack, if you were around me 24 hours a day, I think I would probably kill you. Besides, they might have just taken us both, or worse, they could have killed you," her voice sounds wet at the last words as if it is drenched in tears.

"Sammy," he says softly, "It's okay, we're both here, we're both safe."

She takes a few deep breaths, and then obediently hands her wrist over to his hands. He gently takes her pulse. It's a little bit fast, but what could you expect from someone huddled in the corner of the room in the middle of a panic attack?

"Is this hurting your shoulder?" she asks gently, glancing at the arm that isn't around her.

"It's fine," he says, and she almost believes him.

"I can't believe you got shot rescuing me," she says.

"I'd do anything for you," he says, kissing her forehead.

"Jack when I was laying there on that table, I thought I was going to die."

"Shh!" he says, kissing the place where her hair meets her scalp. He doesn't want her to flip out again. He already has a feeling that Janet would be pissed if she knew that Sam had reacted like this, and he had no intention of bringing her in. He is pretty sure that if she freaks out again he's going to have to drive her to the infirmary.

"Jack, listen, it's important. I was laying there, and I only had one regret. I mean, my job is amazing. I've done everything professionally that I could ever want to do. I've got you, and that's amazing," she says with a smile.

"The regret?" he asks.

"I want to have kids," she says.

He glances at her critically trying to keep the grin off his face. "Are you going to change your mind in a few days?" he asks.

She shakes her head. He can see in her eyes that her decision isn't going to change.

"Yeah, babies," he says, now allowing himself that smile, "Do you want me to retire?"

"No," she bites her lip, "We'll have to figure out something for the over-nights."

"I'm sure Janet would be willing to help, or we could get a nanny."

"Maybe it's selfish," she mutters, with regret in her voice.

"Having a kid?" he says with a laugh, "Oh honey, that is the least selfish thing in the whole world. You are going to give up your sleep…"

"I don't do a whole lot of sleeping anyway," she says.

"Okay, then giving up working long hours," he points out with a grin.

"Well, you have been telling me to get a life," she retorts.

"Goodbye expendable income," he retorts.

"We've got to much crap anyway."

"Goodbye sex life," he says again.

"I'm sorry, Jack, are you trying to talk me out of having your baby right now?"

"No, I'm just teasing. I want to have kids," he draws small circles on her arm, "There is one thing that I have to ask you before we get to serious about this, though. I'm not trying to talk you out of it, but when you consider this you might just change your mind, and I'll be okay with it if you do."

"Is this about Charlie? Because I know that you are an amazing father. I trust you completely."

He flinches a little at that. "No, Carter, although that would be another reason not to have a kid with me. I was talking about the fact that I am a lot older than you. There is a good chance that at some point - ten years, twenty years from now, I'm going to be the one to die first. I just want you to know that you have an above average chance of raising kids we have alone or with an old man who can't help you much."

She is silent for so long that Jack thinks he's just talked the woman he loves out of what she wants most in the world, and then he hears her soft voice. "Jack, if you're going to leave me, you'd better leave a little baby with your genes behind."

It's going to be okay. He knows in that second that everything is going to be just fine between them.

"You ready to go back to bed?" he asks softly.

"Yeah, if you could wake me up before the next vital check, that might be better for both of us."

"You've got it Carter," he says, and they slowly stand up and separate themselves from each other.